Chapter 44: Ivy

Chapter

Forty-Four

IVY

I sit on the edge of the plush velvet sofa, watching my alphas prepare for war. The silence in our temporary base is deafening. Even Whiskey hasn't cracked a joke in hours, which tells me more about their stress levels than any words could.

Plague just returned from organizing the troops and spending time with his family. His mother insisted on seeing him before the invasion, though Revi opted to stay behind and help coordinate things from Surhiira. Guess they can't have all three heirs to the throne in combat roles.

The thought settles like a lead weight in my stomach.

I catch Plague adjusting his all-black tactical gear for the hundredth time, his movements sharp and precise.

Too precise.

He's worried.

They all are. And they should be.

We're about to attempt something unprecedented. A full-scale invasion of the Capital. The Council's stronghold. The seat of their power and corruption.

The door opens and a tall Surhiiran man enters, his white uniform adorned with medals that catch the light. General Larihm. I've only met him a few times, but he seems kind beneath his overly serious exterior. He bows deeply to Plague.

"Prince Hamsa," he says formally. "The troops have assembled. All is ready."

My breath catches in my throat.

This is really happening.

"And the other matter?" Plague asks, his voice carefully controlled.

"The omega prisoner is being transferred to Mr. Vlakov's facility as we speak," Larihm replies with another slight bow. "She should arrive by nightfall."

After Plague's confrontation with Azarel, he decided it was best for Cosima to be held on more neutral grounds. I'm not sure Nikolai Vlakov was the best choice, but he's the only one with as much incentive to pull off this plan as the rest of us. Even if his current allegiances are questionable, Azarel is still Surhiiran—and technically, he has as much right to waltz in here and demand access to her as Plague does.

When we're gone, he'll have the opportunity.

I know a part of Plague still doesn't want to believe that his own brother would screw us over when we're vulnerable, but he's not taking any chances, either.

Besides, if my theory about Cosima and the Knight being connected is right… maybe them both being in Nikolai's captivity for now isn't the worst thing. It's not exactly what I had in mind when I promised to help him, but right now, there's nothing else I can do.

"And the messenger?" Plague asks.

General Larihm nods. "He will be dispatched as soon as we receive word that our forces have breached the perimeter, as you instructed."

I tense at his words, remembering Plague's promise to his brother. That even if he dies in this assault, someone will deliver Cosima's location to Azarel.

The thought makes my stomach churn.

Everyone could die today.

The reality of what we're about to do sinks in like a lead weight. We're not just fighting for ourselves anymore. We're fighting for every omega trapped under the Council's control. For every family torn apart by their tyranny.

For freedom.

But the cost could be devastating.

I look around at the rest of my pack, drinking in the sight of them.

Thane checking his weapons, his dark eyes stormy.

Wraith hovering by the window closest to me, watching for threats even here in our secure base.

Whiskey sitting unnaturally still, his usual restless energy contained like a bomb waiting to go off.

Valek lurking in silence in the shadows, prowling and pacing.

I have so much to lose.

We all do.

But deep down, I know that in order to step into the future we could have together, we have to lay the ghosts of our past to rest.

"The mercenaries are in position as well," Larihm continues. "Though I must express my reservations about trusting?—"

"Your reservations are noted," Plague cuts him off smoothly. "But Vlakov will hold up his end. He has too much to gain by helping us—and too much to lose by betraying us."

I'm not as certain, but it's too late for doubts now.

"Very well, Your Highness." Larihm bows again. "Shall I give the order to move out?"

Plague's eyes meet mine across the room. In that moment, I see everything he's not saying. His fear, his determination, his love for all of us.

I give him a small nod.

Whatever happens, we're facing it head on.

As a pack.

"Yes," he says, turning back to Larihm. "Give the order. We converge at the old mine, next to the northeastern checkpoint of the Capital."

As the general leaves, I stand and move to the center of the room. My alphas gravitate toward me instinctively, forming a loose circle. For a moment, we just look at each other. I find myself trying to imprint each of their faces in my mind, but then I realize they're already there, etched deeply into my soul.

"Well," Whiskey finally breaks the silence, his voice rough. "Guess this is it, huh?"

"This is it," Thane confirms grimly. "Everyone ready?"

"Ready to invade one of the most powerful nations on earth?" Plague asks dryly. "Is there such a thing?"

I shift my weight anxiously, watching my alphas prepare for what could be our last stand together. The reality of what we're about to do hits me harder with each passing second. My chest feels tight. Like I can't get enough air.

I could lose them.

Any of them.

All of them.

The thought makes my knees weak. I physically can't imagine it. The words are on the tip of my tongue, tempting me with how easy it would be to blurt them out. To keep them all safe.

Please don't do this.

We can find another way.

Any other way.

But before I can give voice to my moment of weakness, Valek speaks up from his position in the shadows.

"Are we really going to go through with this?"

Everyone freezes as he somehow echoes the plea ricocheting through my brain. I catch the agitated looks that pass between the others, the way their shoulders tense at his words.

"Go through with what?" Thane growls. "The invasion? A bit late for cold feet now."

But Valek's silver eyes are fixed on me. "No," he says softly. "Not the invasion."

"Then what?" Whiskey demands impatiently. So serious. So unlike himself.

"We're about to embark on what is by far the most reckless, audacious, suicidal mission we've ever attempted," Valek continues, his accent thickening with emotion. "And that is saying something. Yet we're still dancing around the obvious out of fear of the unknown."

The others exchange confused glances.

Even I'm not sure where he's going with this.

Valek takes a step forward, and for once, his usual predatory grace is replaced by something almost vulnerable. "I have more than enough regrets for one lifetime," he says softly. "If I'm going to die today, I don't want this one haunting me in the afterlife."

My heart pounds against my ribs as he moves closer.

"I love you," Valek says simply to me. "And since it seems the others, with the exception of Wraith, are afraid to scare you off by putting it to words, well..." A ghost of his usual smirk plays at his lips. "I'm already the villain. So I'll just say it. They love you, too."

"Valek," Thane warns, but there's something in his voice I've never heard before. Something raw and exposed.

"It wasn't your place," Plague says sharply.

Valek's smirk widens. "No? Then when? After we're dead?" He shakes his head, looking intently at me. "It was finally the right time."

All I can do is stare at him.

At all of them.

"Yeah," Whiskey says gruffly, folding his arms. "We love you, wildcat."

"From the moment we saw you," Plague says softly, stepping forward. "The moment we caught your scent and our worlds individually and collectively shifted on their axes..." He swallows hard. "We knew you were ours. And we were yours."

Wraith moves closer, the leather straps holding his armored gear in place creaking softly as he signs. Always.

"We didn't want to pressure you," Thane adds roughly. "After everything you've been through... we knew it might take time before you were ready to hear it. Knew there was a chance you might never be ready."

"But now we might die," Valek cuts in, blunt as ever, earning another round of glares. "What? We might. And I refuse to die without her knowing the truth. Do you?"

Thane sighs. "No," he concedes, his eyes meeting mine. "He's right. I do love you. More than words can say."

"I love you, too," Plague adds softly, his usual detached tone nowhere to be found. Only warmth and vulnerability now.

Whiskey's voice cracks a little as he adds, "Yeah. Love you more than anything, wildcat."

Wraith's eyes crinkle at the corners as he signs it, too. He's told me before, but seeing that sign again makes my heart sing. I love you.

"I've already said it, but I'll say it again," Valek says in that velvety voice. "I love you, little omega."

Tears spill down my cheeks as the weight of their words—their love—washes over me. I wasn't expecting this, and if I'd known the entire pack was going to declare their love for me, I might've been freaked out. Scared, even. But now that it is actually happening, it's not just okay, it's…

It's incredible.

My lips part as I try to form the words burning in my chest, but Thane holds up his hand.

"Don't," he says gently. "Don't say it just because we did. Only say it when you're ready. If you're ready."

A watery laugh escapes me as I look up at them through my tears. "I'm ready," I whisper, my voice hoarse. "I love you, too. I've loved you all longer than I probably wanted to admit to myself."

The tension in the room breaks like a dam. They move as one, surrounding me in a circle of warmth and strength and devotion. Their scents wrap around me as their strong arms encircle me.

The scent of home.

"I don't know if I can do this," I murmur, suddenly feeling like I'm about to fall apart in their arms. I can do a hell of a lot, but apparently, not knowing if all these men I've fallen for are going to make it out of this alive is way too much.

"You're not going to lose us," Plague says firmly, his hand finding mine.

"We're too stubborn to die," Whiskey agrees with a snort.

"When you became our omega," Thane says, his deep voice resonating through me, "we made a choice. To give you everything you deserve. And part of that is a better world."

"A world where omegas aren't property," Plague continues.

"Where no one has to live in fear," Whiskey adds.

"Where you can be free," Valek finishes softly.

Wraith rumbles in agreement, his massive frame pressing closer protectively.

I swallow the growing lump in my throat so I can speak. "Then let's go make that world. And when we're all home, when we're all safe… I want you all to mark me."

"What did you say?" Thane asks, his tone even rougher.

I take a deep breath, looking up at my alphas as they stare at me in stunned silence. "I want you to mark me," I repeat more firmly. "All of you. When we get home." I reach up to touch the spot where my neck meets my shoulder, where a mating mark would go, near my scar. "I want to be yours completely. And I want you to be mine."

"Little omega..." Valek looks at me like he isn't sure if he's hearing me correctly. "Are you certain?"

"Yes," I say without hesitation. "I've never been more certain of anything." I look around at all of them, meeting each of their gazes in turn. "So we'd all better come back alive, because I'm not doing this without any of you."

"Fuck," Whiskey breathes with a low chuckle. "That's... that's one hell of an incentive to stay alive, wildcat."

"That's the idea," I say with a small smile. "I need you all to promise me you'll be careful. That you'll come back to me." My voice cracks slightly. "Because you're not just my pack. You're my family. My home."

Thane pulls me closer, pressing his forehead to mine. "We promise," he says roughly. "Nothing in this world could keep us from coming back to you. Nothing in any world."

"Then it's settled," I say, trying to ignore the way my heart races at their words, at the promises in their eyes. "We go in, we tear down the Council, we come home..." I swallow hard. "And then you make me yours."

"You already are ours," Thane says softly. "The marks will just make it official."

"Yeah," I murmur, feeling slightly more at peace now. "Official."

My alphas hold me close for another long moment, surrounding me like a protective cocoon. The weight of what we just admitted to each other hangs in the air, but it doesn't feel heavy anymore.

"Well, shit," Whiskey finally says, breaking the silence. "That got real sappy real quick." He wipes dramatically at his eyes. "Anyone got a tissue? I think I got something in my eye. Probably Plague's cologne."

"And he's back," Plague mutters, but I catch the relief in his voice. The slight upward curve of his lips.

I watch as my alphas move around the room with practiced efficiency, doing final weapons checks and adjusting tactical gear. Even their movements seem lighter now, like confessing our feelings has lifted some invisible weight from their shoulders.

Suddenly, I'm not so sure they were acting somber because of the war at all. Maybe it was just the weight of everything left unspoken. Considering these are hardened military alphas who thrive in a combat zone and freeze up when it comes to discussing emotions, I guess that makes sense.

"Time to move out," Thane says, his deep voice carrying that natural command that makes us all straighten up instinctively.

"Remember," Plague says as we head for the door. "Stick to the plan. We get in, we head straight for the Council chambers. They'll evacuate the VIPs to one spot so they can guard them all. They'll be sitting ducks while our armies go head to head with the Capital's forces, and then?—"

"And then we fuck shit up," Whiskey interrupts cheerfully. "Got it."

"That's... not exactly how I would put it," Plague sighs.

"But that's what's gonna happen," Whiskey points out.

"He's not wrong," I say, earning a proud grin from Whiskey and an exasperated look from Plague.

Things feel normal again.

As normal as they can be right now, at least.

We make our way out of our temporary base into the light of day that will fade to night by the time we make it to Reinmich, passing the leagues of Surhiiran soldiers who snap to attention at the sight of their prince, while Nikolai's mercenaries mill about in their motley array of gear. The contrast would be amusing if it weren't for the deadly serious expressions on everyone's faces.

"Ready?" Thane asks as we reach the head of the convoy.

"Ready," I say firmly.

Whiskey throws open the doors with his usual dramatic flair, revealing the organized chaos of our gathered forces. Surhiiran troops stand before us in perfect formation in a sea of pristine white, all eyes on us.

"Well then," Whiskey says, cracking his knuckles with a wild grin. "Let's go win a fuckin' war."